


Midnight

by GracefulDemon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Resuscitated Cruella, and a cute kitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracefulDemon/pseuds/GracefulDemon
Summary: After coming back to life, life’s terribly boring to Cruella. Nothing to do, no one to talk to... but something keeps her from leaving Storybrooke for good. Hope that, one day, someone will not hate her, and will find her company worth having. One night, her wishes are heard, and she finds a furry surprise by her doorstep.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A late birthday present for Anna. I hope you like it!

For Anna

 

 

Life was… a perfect bore.

Yes, it was good to be back, alive and well, but under the agreement that she was to behave or else… It was no fun. Gone were the nights of heavy drinking and heavier destruction, setting things on fire, and messing with people’s heads just because she could. There was nothing to do, no one who could stand her for more than five seconds, and no one to share in on the boredom, at least in solidarity. Not even the villains wanted anything to do with her. It was dreadful!

There was one thing, though—someone—who rooted her to the grounds of Storybrooke, and prevented her from leaving, even if he’d probably thank his gods if she did. It was a strange feeling, a sad kind of happiness that made her giddy in the mornings, and brought tears to her eyes when she lay in bed at night, utterly alone, with nothing but fantasies.

This was one of those nights.

She walked across the maisonette in nothing but a sleep shirt, her black and white hair up in a messy bun, still wet from the bath. She’d found this place out of nowhere, circled out in a newspaper she picked up on the diner across Granny’s; it was just there, as if waiting for her to check it out. After being rejected by countless landlords, for a whole number of reasons (all of them including her villainy, as if that made her any less able to pay), this one was willing to sell her a place, although begrudgingly, but sell it he did.

It wasn’t terribly big—it had cost too little for that— but it didn’t feel cramped. The lower half was a studio, complete with industrial-looking brick walls, a kitchenette, a wide living space, and a bathroom she deemed decent enough. The second floor was just a little section for a mattress, and little else but it had a ceiling window that opened up the space to the starry night sky. It was her favourite place. If she were to be honest, she’d fallen for it a little. Perhaps, because, for the first time in—oh, seventy odd years, she guessed—she had a home. It was hers, not an attic turned prison, not a mansion that came and went with one of her many marriages, not the replica of someone else’s house in the Underworld. No, this place was her own. It was home. She only wished she could share it with someone.

She smiled to herself, scoffing at the petty thought, and poured a shot of mint liqueur into her hot cacao before taking the mug, and walking back to the sofa. The night would end as it always did, with a heavy heart, and dry tears on her cheeks. After a week, she developed an aversion to bedtime, and disrupted her sleep schedule in a fantastical way. She felt like a clock who never knew what time it was; it felt like nine but all the other clocks marked five to midnight.

On other nights she turned on the television, clearing her mind with useless visual junk, but not tonight. Tonight she sat on her sofa with her legs crossed, sipping her hot cacao and mint in the dim light that came in from the street through the big iron framed windows. It was just her, and the silence. Which is why she startled when there was a knock on the door.

She uncrossed her legs, and sat at the edge of her seat, deathly quiet. No one ever knocked on her door.

Slowly, with her heart hammering in her chest, she slid to her bare feet, and walked to the entrance door, hovering her fingers over the key for a hesitating second. It was late. Well, she didn’t know what time it was but it was dark; it had been dark a while. For all she knew, the person at her doorstep was just another nobody or a hero, there with a mission, and something to cut her throat with. But what was life without a little danger?

With a glare and her jaw locked, she pulled the door open, and was met by an empty doorstep.

_Meow!_

Her glare widened into stunned surprise, and she looked down.

Planted neatly on her doormat was a weave basket, filled with a checkered blanket of pastel blues, pinks, and yellows, and hidden beneath one of its folds was a vision that scared away her dark mood. The kitten was only a little thing, with bright blue eyes and a cute pink nose but what warmed Cruella’s heart the most was its long black and white fur. Just like her hair. Well, maybe some uneven patches here and there but still, clearly a deliberate choice from whoever had left it on her doorstep. But who’d left it there? And why? Who, in this dreadful, boring, death-to-all-villains town would leave a furry animal at Cruella De Vil’s doorstep?

‘Oh, it doesn’t matter,’ she muttered, allowing the genuine smile to paint her lips as she kneeled down, and extended her indicator finger.

The kitten proceeded with caution, weary of its new surroundings, and sniffed the tip of her finger for a few long minutes. Cruella didn’t mind, this was the best thing that had happened to her since she’d come back from the dead. It was a break from the monotony of unpleasant days, and sad nights. Most importantly, it was a break from solitude.

As the clock tower struck twelve, the kitten ventured onto her lap, and she cupped it in her hands, bringing it up to touch it’s adorable nose to hers.

‘Midnight,’ she cooed, testing the name. ‘Hello!’

_Meow!_

She couldn’t help the quiet giggle. ‘Hello, Midnight.’

A small burst of joy swelled in her chest. No longer alone. Finally, there was someone there.

Her eyes stung with conflicting emotions, maybe with tears of happiness, even though she felt like curling up in her bed, and never leave the safety of her home, ever again.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked in a tiny voice. ‘I bet you are. Whoever left you here probably hates you as much as they hate me. You see, I have a bad reputation when it comes to animals with beautiful fur. But you shouldn’t worry. I won’t hurt you because you’re the cutest little darling!’ She grinned a closed eyed grin.

‘Does that mean you’ll wait until she’s bigger to turn her into a pair of mittens?’

Cruella pressed Midnight to her chest with a startling gasp, and snapped her head in the direction of the voice. There, leaning against the dark wooden banister, stood the cause of all her current afflictions, looking far too smug for her liking.

Clearing her throat, she stood, and grabbed the basket from the floor with her free hand. She didn’t want to look at him.

‘How long have you been there?’

‘Long enough to know I’ve made the right choice. Goodnight.’

‘Wait! You... _you?’_

_How eloquent._

‘They had no spare cages at the animal shelter, and no one wanted her. I thought a puppy would be too risky.’

_But why?_ Why would he leave the kitten in her care? Surely, someone else in town would want her.

‘I don’t understand...’

David cocked his head to one side, a strange expression on his face—it was the type of expression he’d never directed at her, at least not genuinely. Tenderness.

‘Does it need to be understood?’

Midnight purred against her stuttering heart. How she wanted to kiss him. How she wanted to close the space between them, caress the side of his face, and kiss him until their lips were bruised. How she wanted so much more than that.

When before she’d been unable to meet his gaze, now she was unable to look away.

‘Don’t go.’ The words were out before she could think them through, and she swallowed nervously at the cold that seeped into his face.

They didn’t move for a long time, locked in a silent conversation; a battle for self control that shattered when he stepped in, pressed her against the wall, and devoured her lips in a kiss that made her eyes roll shut, and her knees grow weak. He buried his hand into her hair, untying the messy bun, and licked his way into her mouth, moaning so low the sound trickled down to her core in sparks of lightning, awakening the fire.

Her body screamed. _Yes!_

‘Come inside,’ she breathed out, half drunk on a single touch, looking up at him, begging desperately.

‘Cruella-’

She cut him with her lips, dropping the basket, and bringing his face closer, kissing him once, twice, not giving a damn about her desperation. She couldn’t let him go. Not again.

‘Not again… Please.’

David pressed his forehead to hers, his breath ragged.

‘What about Midnight’s-’ he began.

‘I have magic,’ she reminded him, bitting the down her smug smile.

His hands slid down to her hips, and slipped into the sleep shirt, finding nothing but smooth skin underneath. By the tortured groan that left his mouth, she assumed he approved of her choice very much, indeed. So long as she drove him crazy…

He gripped her thighs, and lift her off the ground. Cruella let out a soft squeak, and hugged Midnight close, wrapping her legs around David’s waist as he carried them inside, and pushed the door shut with his boot. He sat her on the arm of the sofa, sucking on the spot right under the back of her ear as Cruella did her best not to drop the cat, and have him right there. Between silent cries and soft hisses, she managed to lay down the cat, and produce a tiny bowl of food before David growled his impatience.

‘Bed.’

‘Upstairs. And take off your boots.’

He chuckled, kicking off the boots and socks, then tore her away, and carried her up to the cramped second level. His clothes dropped on the hardwood floor in a trail that left little guess work to whoever found them, and when he lay her down on the blood-red feather comforter on her queen-sized mattress, the only thing between them were his black trunks, and her grey sleep shirt.

His lips were on her, everywhere. His hips pressed against hers, giving her a taste, teasing, torturing, letting her feel just how much she affected him, and for the first time in weeks she felt dangerous.

Her nails trailed down his back, making him shiver, and she hooked her fingers on the hem of his underwear but he leaned away, kneeling back to look down on her; the devious smirk on his lips, delicious. James had been nothing compared to this alone. The same face does not the same person make. At all.

‘“ _Devils ha_ _v_ _e more fun_ ”,’ he read, running his hands down the words, crumpling the sentence in the fabric as he pushed the shirt up, and unveiled her flushed body underneath.

He returned to her lips, brushing his fingertips against her nipples, and made his way down her body, using his tongue, using his teeth, until he reached the place between her thighs, and descended on her with a gleam in those deceptively innocent eyes. His strong arms locked around her thighs, and he hummed into her, making her sigh in bliss. Oh, he knew all the right spots, as if they’d been here before— knowledge only a long time lover would know—and she wondered if his cursed self had ever dreamt of her, the way she’d dreamt of him.

Perhaps, that was the true origin of her infatuation for this man. Those dreams. When they first started, she’d thought them a fabrication of her mind, trying to connect to a more familiar world, but it soon became obvious that there was more to it. A magical intervention of some sort. During those twenty eight years, she’d dreamt of him constantly, and when he wasn’t there, he was somewhere in the world—in the same dream—a constant presence be it in person or thought. Twenty eight years; times filled with danger, adventure, pleasure, and a deep understanding. Things that never happened. Then suddenly, as soon as they came, the dreams went, and it felt like being ripped in half. But she was finally whole, again.

Cruella threw her head back with a cry. Yes, this is where she belonged, right next to him.

His mouth left her core, and found its way back to her neck while his naked body nestled comfortably between her legs, rocking against her. Somewhere along the way, he’d taken off his last piece of clothing. She didn’t care. She brought his face up to hers, brushing her lips to his, and he entered her slowly, letting his weight fall on her, hugging her close, and from then on he didn’t stop.

Her legs locked around him, her nails sunk into his back, and he moaned into her lips, gripping the comforter. It was slow, so unlike what she had imagined. The pleasure of the moment seemed to come from him rather than his actions. It was something new; the stuff of… dreams.

She turned them around, rolling on top of him, and pressed her palms against his lower torso, riding him at a sensual pace. The feel of his body matched her fabricated memories, strong and lean, a warrior’s body, and she found she couldn’t separate the two. In the heat of the moment, he was the David in her dreams, and she’d longed for him long enough. Pulling his body to her, she made him sit, and lowered herself on him so deeply his cry got stuck in his throat.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she whispered, again and again, cupping his face, kissing his forehead, his eyelids, the corner of his lips. ‘I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.’ Perhaps, he’d think her crazy or deluded but she’d never been so honest in her life.

Her chest ached with the weight of it all, and she rolled her hips, feeling him twitch inside her, shivering at the feel of his calloused hands smoothing down her sides. Nothing would ever feel this perfect. She kissed him, the heat of ultimate release growing inside her, burning as he took control and thrust up into her. She gripped his hair, breathing against his forehead, pressing her eyes shut, tasting his sweat on her lips, and when his groans turned desperate her mind went blank, and she cried out in the most delicious type of pain she’d ever endured.

Her body pulsed and tightened around him, high on the remnants of her orgasm, and his movements became erratic, desperate to follow her into release. Half lidded eyes looked up at her, darkened by lust, his brow furrowed at the ache that was just out of reach but it couldn’t last forever. With a groan that made her hot all over, he gripped her hips enough to leave marks, and came in hard quick thrusts, filling her up.

Exhausted, he let his head fall to her shoulder, breathing heavily against her skin. They remained there a while, in comfortable silence, until their breathing slowed, and he looked up.

He wasn’t smiling but he didn’t look angry or sad, either. What was he thinking? Had he regretted it?

‘Were you eating chocolate before I showed up?’

She blinked. Of all things he could have brought up… but the question lit up an idea, and she gave him a suggestive smile.

Pushing him back down with a hand, she hovered over him, and kissed him, swallowing the low hiss he made when he slid out of her.

‘Meet me downstairs,’ she whispered, and without another word she got up, and walked away, feeling his eyes on her swaying hips as she disappeared down the stairs.

She grabbed his shirt from the floor, a piece of red and black checkered flannel, and put it on, buttoning it up just until below her breasts, and went to the bathroom, unaware that she was being followed. In the heat of the moment, her new housemate had completely slipped her mind, so she was surprised when she closed the door, and found the kitten had walked in with her, making the act of peeing just a little more awkward than usual. What was it with cats and their fascination with urinating humans? Perhaps it was a trust thing. I have seen you pee, human, and you’ve seen me pee too; we are now connected. She shook her head at the ridiculousness of it.

After she was all done, and freshened up, she opened the door for Midnight to walk out, and followed behind.

David chuckled. ‘Bonding already, huh.’

‘That’s what I was thinking. No taboos left between us, now.’

He laughed again, shaking his head, and turned to collect the rest of his clothes from the floor. He’d put his jeans back on. Well, he couldn’t leave without his shirt.

‘To answer your question, I was not, in fact, eating chocolate when you dropped by. I was drinking it.’ She walked to the kitchenette, pulled out an extra mug from the upper counter, and filled it with the steaming cacao. It occurred to her that her own cup was left forgotten in the coffee table in front of the sofa. She’d have to mind that now that there was a cat around. She added a shot of mint liqueur to the drink, and stirred it in, tasting the result on the spoon. Perfect.

David hugged her from behind, and looked over her shoulder. ‘Can I have one?’ he asked, nuzzling her neck.

‘Darling, as far as I’m concerned, you can have everything.’

He moaned appreciatively. ‘Can I have my shirt back?’

‘Except that.’

‘So, it’s almost everything. Is it?’

‘You can have the hot chocolate... or me.’

‘But not the shirt?’

She shook her head.

Midnight ran around the place, chasing invisible monsters in the air but stopped every now and then to observe the humans, speaking in their hushed tones. The words were lost to her, a language she would never master, but the atmosphere was comfortable, and she felt safe here, with these two. When they walked back upstairs, she ran after them, jumping on their feet as if they were a mice, and when she finally spent the energy left in her tiny kitten system, she curled up by their feet, and slept.


End file.
